


Strange Fascinations

by dogpoet



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Eyebrows, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-09
Updated: 2009-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is going crazy. He has to have them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Fascinations

Jim isn't sure when Spock's eyebrows started distracting him, but he is developing a real problem. He thinks about them constantly, about how they point toward the sky, and never come down, how they're so...stiff on Spock's impassive face. It's like a special treat when Spock lifts one of them, questioning something Jim has said.

Jim finds himself fixated on his friend's eyebrows when he and Spock are on the bridge, or at lunch, or wandering the surface of some godforsaken planet with nebulous, bloodsucking aliens chasing them. He can't stop staring when he and Spock play chess, even though it means Spock takes nearly all of Jim's pieces right out from under him.

Uhura is the object of his jealousy, even though she and Spock broke up long ago. _She's probably touched them_, Jim thinks darkly, seething as she passes by him on the way to her station. He's jealous of her fingers, and maybe even of her lips. He wonders if she loved them the way he loves them.

He's only touched them once, accidentally, when Spock had a head injury and Jim carried him to the transport location. Maybe that's what started this whole fascination. Jim wants to lick them, kiss them, run his fingers along them, feel the bristly hairs prickle his skin. He wants to say outrageous things so that Spock will raise them or wrinkle his forehead, bringing them together. He wants to rub them against his own because their eyebrows are as different as they are: Spock's so sharp and defined; Jim's so thick and unruly. He thinks they would have good eyebrow sex, rubbing and panting together in some dark and unattended part of the ship.

Bones must think he's crazy. Jim goes down to sick bay one night to have a drink with the good doctor, and ends up shooting his mouth off, hypothesizing about why Vulcans have such straight eyebrows, why they slant upward so dramatically. Jim can't stop himself from going on and on about sexual selection and peacock feathers, and how, really, Vulcan eyebrows are completely different from Romulan ones, until Bones takes away the brandy and tells him: "Pull yourself together, Jim! For God's sake!"

Maybe he _is_ losing his mind because Spock's eyebrows seem to be winking at him. They seem to shimmy in a suggestive way. They seem to glitter in the light. Jim thinks he might have contracted a hallucinatory fever on Epsilon Canaris III. _Ride, Captain, ride, upon our mystery ship!_ the eyebrows sing to him, breathy and low.

Jim runs from the bridge to his quarters in record time, and slams his hand against the door controls. He's breathing hard, having a panic attack. Starfleet captains don't have panic attacks over eyebrows. It's all so crazy. He doesn't know how he'd even start to explain this to Bones, but he needs help.

Someone's at the door. Jim composes himself as best he can. "Come," he says, and the door opens.

It's Spock.

Jim stumbles away, trying not to look at his first officer.

"Captain, is everything all right?" Spock sounds genuinely concerned.

Jim is breathing like he just ran ten laps around the ship. "It's all good, Spock. Return to the bridge." If Spock doesn't leave immediately, Jim thinks he'll lose control and pin the Vulcan down. He doesn't think Spock would respond well to having his eyebrows molested.

"You seem to be in a state of agitation. Would you like an escort to sickbay?" Spock nears, taking Jim's arm, peering at him.

"Spock," Jim says, and it sounds like he's losing his voice. He's sweating. "Make your eyebrows go away." He realizes it's not the most logical thing to say, but it's what he's thinking.

There goes one of the eyebrows, lifting slightly, as if Spock thinks Jim is off his rocker. Jim stares at the raised eyebrow. His throat feels dry. Spock places a hot hand on Jim's forehead. "You do not have an elevated body temperature."

Jim can't help himself. He grabs Spock's shirt in his fists and pushes him against the wall, pressing with all his weight. Spock doesn't resist. Jim can hear Spock breathing in his ear as he places his right eyebrow against the Vulcan's right eyebrow, and rubs, just a tiny bit. The friction sends a charge right down to his dick, which instantly hardens.

"Jim," Spock says, which he rarely does, preferring to remain formal. Jim is what he uses when they're chained up in an alien dungeon, when they're close to death or apocalypse.

Jim's afraid to pull back to look at his first officer's face. He doesn't want to know Spock's reaction; he's sure it isn't good. They're skin to skin, cheek to cheek, eye to eye. Spock blinks, his eyelashes fluttering softly on Jim's closed eyelid. Jim grinds his hips into Spock, even though he knows he's digging himself into a deeper hole by doing so. His body is out of his control right now, and it's all because of the damn eyebrows. They're as powerful as Kahn-ut-tu love drugs!

When Spock's hand comes to rest on Jim's ass, he feels like he's being given permission. He dares to check on Spock's expression, which is not offended or discomfited but smoldering. That's not something Jim thought possible, but it is.

"You're okay with this?" Jim asks, thinking maybe he's having a fevered dream. He can feel Spock's heart beating against his side.

"I have reciprocated your feelings for some time, but it is not in my nature to express these emotions or to act upon them. You have, however, caught me off guard." Spock lowers his eyes, as if he's abashed by his lack of control.

Jim smiles. He loves to catch Spock off guard. "I couldn't stop myself. It's your eyebrows," Jim says helplessly, as if that's all the explanation he needs to give.

"My eyebrows?" Spock repeats.

"Hot," Jim says.

"It is not unusual for individuals of your species to fetishize certain body parts." Spock pushes Jim onto the bed.

This time, it's Jim who doesn't resist. He lies back, watching Spock, who seems very focussed. Spock hovers above him, his face inches from Jim's. "Is this the cause of your recent distraction?"

"You noticed, huh?" Jim tries to lift his hips, but Spock is heavier than he looks, and he's got Jim pinned to the bed.

"I believe I can ameliorate the situation with some direction. How would you like me to proceed?" Without waiting for an answer, Spock lowers his head and gives Jim an eyebrow kiss again, the delicious friction sending tremors right down to Jim's bones. Then Spock is gone.

Jim groans in frustration, but now Spock is working at getting Jim's pants off. Jim lifts his hips cooperatively. Spock gets the pants down just enough to expose Jim's erection, and brings his face close. He takes Jim's cock in one hand, running his fingers up and down the length tentatively, as if familiarizing himself with new territory. He glances at Jim for just a moment, his face alive with something like wonder, before rubbing his eyebrow right along the tip, creating a sensation like the most faint prickles of electric current. The gesture brings Jim to the edge. No one has _ever_ pushed his buttons this way. He's not even telling Spock what to do. He briefly wonders if Spock is reading his mind through his dick, or maybe just reading his dick's mind, which is a distinct possibility.

Spock trails his eyebrow up the shaft, from base to tip. Jim can feel each hair catching on his skin for a nanosecond before moving on. Spock plants wet kisses on Jim's balls, all the while pumping Jim's cock. When Spock flutters his eyelashes against the sensitive skin of the tip, it's too much. Jim is coming as if he hasn't come in years, making moaning sounds, tensing his back.

When Jim's head clears, he realizes he's still wearing a shirt and pants. There's come everywhere, and Spock is sitting up, looking at him, licking his lips and wiping come off his face with his finger.

"Sorry about that," Jim says. He's not sure what makes him do it, but he grabs Spock's wrist, brings his hand close, and sucks Spock's come-covered finger into his mouth.

Spock closes his eyes and makes a breathy sound. Jim remembers, now, that Vulcan gesture of affection: two fingers against two fingers. It hadn't seemed erotic when he'd witnessed it, but maybe in private it is. This particular Vulcan certainly seems to be getting off on the fact that Jim now has two of Spock's fingers in his mouth and is fluttering his tongue against them. Jim lets Spock's fingers slip almost entirely out of his mouth, then he bites gently down on the tips before letting them go.

Jim sits up, a little dizzy, and reaches for Spock's pants. He yanks them down without much finesse, working around their awkward position in bed and the fact that his own pants are halfway down, restricting his movements. This is urgent business. He doesn't have time for niceties.

Spock's cock is flushed green with arousal, and Jim practically leaps on it, taking it all in, bobbing sloppily, circling the crown with his tongue. Spock, propped on his elbows, watches him with an expression normally reserved for non-carbon-based life forms. Jim keeps Spock's eyebrows in view, wishing he could be in two places at once. Some extra suction, and a slight scrape of teeth send Spock to orgasm.

The room seems unusually hot. They seem to be wearing too many clothes. Jim inches up the bed to settle beside Spock, leaning over him to kiss one of his eyebrows. He caresses the very end of it with his tongue, loving the feel of the bristly hair. Spock is quiet.

"Are you okay?" Jim asks.

"Your proclivities incline you toward dramatic action," Spock observes.

"Only when it comes to you." Jim lays an arm across Spock's still clothed stomach. Spock takes his hand, a gesture that feels oddly intimate.

"No one has ever paid my eyebrows so much notice."

"No? What about Uhura? She didn't like to kiss them?"

"Indeed, not."

"I deflowered your eyebrows!" Jim crows, pleased with himself.

Spock gives him an odd look, lifting the right eyebrow. _Oh, no_, Jim thinks, as his cock responds to the sight. Life, from now on, is going to be difficult.


End file.
